


Memories

by IAmANonnieMouse



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Kings Rising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6107876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurent is happy, now, after. Truly.</p>
<p>Except, sometimes, when he is exhausted and succumbs to sleep, his mind is not his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

Laurent is happy, now, after. He forcibly molds the courts – both Vere’s and Akielos’ – to his will by day, and he tends to Damen by night. He dons his armor each morning and is slowly learning to shed it in Damen’s company.

He is happy. Truly.

Except.

Except, sometimes, when he is exhausted and succumbs to sleep, his mind is not his own. Sometimes, he is a young boy again, eyes flooded as he mourns his brother, screams locked in his chest as he submits to his uncle once more. Sometimes, he is trapped in Vere, isolated, alone, trying to remember the increasingly blurry face of his brother, trying to remind himself that he is not what his uncle says, that he is worthy of much more.

Sometimes.

Laurent learned at a young age that sleep was not his friend. He learned how to survive, how to function with paltry hours of rest, learned that he could accomplish much more at night while others slept. 

It is a habit that has served him well, but now, everything has changed. Now, his uncle is no longer a threat. Now, Laurent is King, and Damen stands at his side. Now, Laurent is safe.

And he knows this, he truly does. And he is happy, he truly is.

Except.

Except, his memories refuse to release him, and Laurent is helpless in their clutches.

He takes to sleeping at Damen’s side, curled up alongside his honorable barbarian, perched precariously on the edge of Damen’s bed. And when he wakes in the black of night, heart pounding, lungs constricting, eyes watering, muscles trembling, he can hear Damen’s peaceful, unhurried breathing and sense Damen’s large, encompassing warmth alongside him and, if he’s feeling truly unsteady, stroke Damen’s smooth, olive skin.

And it is usually enough for him, this covert indulgence. And Damen never notices, so trusting in sleep.

Except.

Except, one night, he relives his darkest memory, sees his brother cut down by the Akielon Prince, cries on his uncle’s shoulder, pulls away in confusion at his uncle’s first touch. _He was so lonely after his brother died._ He screams, the sound muffled by his uncle’s hand. _Uncle, don’t leave me alone—_

That night, his uneven breaths are audible in the quiet of their room, and his usual indulgences do nothing to calm him. He presses himself against Damen, body quivering, eyes damp.

Damen’s breath stutters, and he shifts slightly, sluggishly. “Laurent?”

Laurent only shudders and presses his forehead into the indentation between Damen’s shoulder blades, then shudders again at the rough, marred skin that presses into his own.

Damen turns over and gently wraps his arms around Laurent. He is warm and comforting and safe, and Laurent shudders once more, letting those residual echoes of terror leave him. One of Damen’s hands slowly slides up the length of Laurent’s back, and Laurent lets himself relax, completely, so that he’s resting, boneless, in Damen’s arms.

Damen ducks his head slightly and rubs his nose against Laurent’s. “What is it?”

Laurent gasps in a breath and shakes his head slightly. He squeezes his eyes shut and struggles to stay relaxed and pliant, even as his instincts, honed from years in the Veretian court, tell him to lock away this reckless display of weakness and to demolish any who have witnessed it.

Damen presses his lips against Laurent’s forehead, nose, eyelids.

Laurent takes another breath. “I—” He stops, the words caught.

“Shh.” Damen kisses the tip of Laurent’s nose and gingerly brushes a damp piece of hair out of Laurent’s face. “Don’t think.”

Laurent exhales heavily at his words.

“Don’t think,” Damen says again.

“Don’t—” Laurent swallows. “Don’t let me think.”

Damen kisses his cheek. “Laurent.” One hand presses gently against Laurent’s back, the other cups and strokes his face. Slowly, in one smooth motion, he presses his lips against Laurent’s.

Laurent falls asleep cocooned in Damen’s warmth, and the unexpected peace he feels in the morning, when the sun tickles him and he realizes Damen’s arms are still around him, protecting him, does not dissipate for the entire day. Not even when Pallas barges into their rooms shortly after, with Lazar and a mortified Nikandros in tow.

**Author's Note:**

> The [first Captive Prince fic I wrote](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5894428) was warm and fluffy, so I suppose it's only fair I write this dark and angsty one, right?


End file.
